


Hell Can't Wait

by Mercurysflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Blood Kink, Blood Magic, Character Death, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Magic, Dubious Consent, F/M, Horcruxes, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Kink, Ritual Sex, Samhain, Sane Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, Torture, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurysflame/pseuds/Mercurysflame
Summary: Thanks to Draco Malfoy, procuring Hermione Granger for the Dark Lord Voldemort becomes top priority when he needs her for a series of dark magic rituals that just so happen to align with the nine circles of hell.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Rabastan Lestrange/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 21
Kudos: 54





	1. Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pxlyhymnia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxlyhymnia/gifts).



> This is for pxlyhymnia, the dark fanfic goddess that she is. Thank you for being my twisted spirit guide as we plummet to the depths of our subconscious and pull out these stories. 
> 
> Also thank you to eve, feesh and olivia who kept me on track and withstood my many rants about Voldemort and writers block.

The evening air was pleasantly warm for a night in August for Wiltshire, but serenity of the countryside was disturbed by a large crack sounding just outside the large wrought-iron gates of Malfoy Manor. A man wearing a black cloak with the hood pulled up walked briskly, the sound of his boots grinding into the gravel. He kept a determined pace even as a second crack sounded just behind him, not stopping to look back. 

“Hold on!” 

A second man had appeared, wearing similar black robes but with the hood down, his bright blonde hair stood out against the darkness of their surroundings. He stood on the spot he appeared, holding a limp body in his arms as he attempted to get the first man’s attention.

“Bass - wait - we can talk this out -” 

The cloaked man turned around, his features twisted in anger. 

“The time for discussing this is over.” Rabastan Lestrange spat out. 

“But, we can’t take her in there,” desperation hung from every word as Draco Malfoy took a small step forward. “I can hide her somewhere else, anywhere else.” His eyes glanced up at the imposing manor house with a grimace. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know that is not an option now.” Rabastan said dismissively before he turned on his heels and continued along the wide driveway lined by manicured hedges. He lifted his left arm upwards and passed through the metal gate as if it were made of smoke and mist. 

Draco stood for several seconds staring up at the metal work of the gate to his childhood home, he tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. He took another deep breath before crossing through the gate, not needing to use his mark for entry. This was his home after all. 

He continued on, crossing the threshold and making his way inside. Rabastan was waiting for him just outside the large wooden doors of the drawing room. Draco walked up beside him, adjusting to get a firmer hold on the girl in his arms. Rabastan turned to Draco, anger now gone from his face and nodded, putting his hand on Draco’s shoulder for a moment before pushing the doors open. As they stepped over the threshold, the murrmurrs of the room quieted, drawing the attention of the other Death Eaters. 

The two men strode forward into the room and continued down the center of the hall. They stopped in front of a raised platform, atop which sat Lord Voldemort in a tall black chair. His red eyes glinted as he turned his head and they caught the light. The edge of his snake-like mouth turned up in a smirk as he looked down at them. 

“Rabastan, I can always count on you.” Voldemort almost cooed, the high pitch of his voice dripping with delight. 

“Yes, my Lord.” lowering his head in respect Rabastan continued “We were able to locate the Mudblood girl as she was leaving the Blood Traitor’s wedding.” 

“And she is alive as you requested, my Lord.” Draco added, still looking down at the floor in order to avoid the intensity of his master’s gaze in an effort to keep what composure he had left. 

“Ah yes Draco,” Voldemort lifted his arms so that his elbows rested on the claw-foot arm-rests of this chair, his fingers pressed together, his focus now on the young Death Eater “put her up in one of the rooms and keep guard. If anything happens to her or she escapes... I will start severing branches off your family tree.”

As if on cue, Bellatrix appeared beside Draco. “Wouldn’t the dungeons be more fitting my Lord?” she chimed in, frowning as she poked the limp figure he was holding with her wand. 

Voldemort ignored her question, and casually asked “Could you remind me what day it is Bella?” 

Bellatrix's eyes widened in reverence and stood up a bit straighter to answer “It’s August 1st, my Lord.” 

“Only two months until Samhain.” said Voldemort, maintaining his conversational tone, “I am so pleased you were able to bring the guest of honor Draco.” A smile spread across his face. 

Bellatrix looked as if someone had hit her with a stupify. Draco’s face was plastered white and his grip slipped, allowing the girl to roll out of his arms onto the steps at Voldemort’s feet with a dull thud. Still unconscious, Hermione Granger’s head lolled to the side and hit the ground. 

\--- 

Hermione woke up in a soft bed with a splitting headache. She looked around and realized she had no idea where she was. Noticing she was still in her red dress from the wedding she wondered where Harry and Ron were. Rubbing her eyes and feeling very disoriented, she reached for the side table and felt her chest tighten as she realized she didn’t have her wand. 

Hermione rested her head in her hands and tried to remember how she got here. She slowly filled with dread as she remembered being pulled out of Bill and Fluer’s wedding tent by someone she recognized calling out her name. Trying to remember why that particular voice felt so out of place in her memory of the night, she was startled by the door to the room opening. 

Draco Malfoy entered the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“Granger.” 

He looked horrible. The bags under his eyes were darker than she remembered. His hair was a mess and his black Death Eaters robes were splattered with mud and what she hoped wasn’t blood. 

“Where am I?” She asked. 

“Malfoy Manor” was all he offered. 

This was not good, last she had heard Voldemort was using Malfoy Manor as headquarters for his operations. “Where are the others?” she demanded, hoping that Harry’s disguise had protected him from being a target when the death eaters attacked the wedding. 

“There are no others, only you were brought here.” 

“Draco, you didn’t.” her eyes were watering from the headache and frustration. 

He backed against the door and slid down it, covering his face in his hands. 

“I’m so tired, I can’t do this anymore.” he said quietly. 

Hermoine slid to the edge of the bed with her feet dangling off. 

“Just tell me what happened.” said Hermione tentatively. Trying to keep her composer was difficult seeing as she could barely think straight with the headache. Knowing Malfoy it wouldn’t be a good idea to put him on the defensive here, and she was likely the furthest someone could go behind enemy lines. Lines she’d only flirted with before, never really crossed. 

Draco looked up, folded his arms over his legs and rested his chin on his knees as he spoke. 

“The Dark Lord tasked us to find Potter and kill as many guests as possible from the Weasley wedding.” He ran his hands through his greasy blonde hair. “I don’t understand how they thought a wedding was a good idea, they apparently have as much sense as they have gold.” He huffed and rolled his eyes.

Hermione shot him a disapproving look but didn’t say anything, letting him continue to explain. 

“Yesterday morning I was called in to brief the inner circle on Potter and his associates so that variables were accounted for.” Draco was staring at the ground, not looking her in the eye as he spoke. “I must not have been answering their questions well enough and the Dark Lord grew impatient, so he used Legilimency.” 

“But you are an Occlumens, you could shield your mind?” Hermione interjected. 

Draco’s expression was so hollow her stomach twisted. 

He continued in a more hushed tone “Once the Dark Lord realized I was attempting to shield parts of my mind, he made every effort to break through. Months of training and I didn’t stand a chance, he’s too strong. He saw everything, he saw you. He saw us…” Draco’s words hung heavy between them. 

Hermione's mind drifted to the clandestine moments at Hogwarts she shared with Draco during the last year. Stolen moments in hidden alcoves and empty classrooms. It had started when they had an argument during prefect rounds and he had pinned her against the wall in frustration. Instead of being livid with his transgression, it had awakened something inside her and she wanted more. Pressing back into him in that moment, their mouths met and it was a freefall from there. She had never told anyone, it had just been something between them - and apparently Voldemort now knew as well. 

She wasn’t sure what this meant for her but it did not bode well. The silence continued to thicken between. Rough sex with Draco had been an outlet as the stress of the impending war was closing in on them. It had always felt like a dirty secret but for the first time she was realizing what a mistake it was to trust him with any part of her. After all, when she heard his voice at the wedding in the fray of the death eater attack, she let her guard down.

She pulled her knees into her chest and hugged them, “So he saw… that. Why bring me here?” 

Draco paused and looked into her eyes for the first time since entering the room. “My memories of you are not just those moments we were… together. The Dark Lord went through every memory I have ever had of you. It felt like he was looking for something, it was excruciating.” He lifted his hand to rub his forehead as if the memory of the intrusion on his mind was causing pain. 

She wondered how she had appeared in Draco’s memories and couldn’t imagine what would have been so interesting about her to Voldemort. 

She frowned and went to pull her hair back into a bun as she did when trying to focus, but realized she had nothing to tie it back so it fell into a loose and wild heap again. “He probably was looking for something to use against Harry.” It sickened her that her transgressions with Draco might help Voldemort in some way. 

“That’s what I thought as well, but after he saw you in my memories, he changed the directive for the wedding. Top priority became extracting you, alive,” Draco shifted against the door and started to get up. “He mentioned you participating in a Samhian ritual.” 

Hermione scoffed. “I’ve read about Samhain. It's just a more traditional name for Halloween, but the celebrations seemed similar. Regardless, I would never help Voldemort with anything, even some stupid ritual.” 

She was growing frustrated. The walls were starting to close in and she was clearly a prisoner.

“Look Granger, the Dark Lord practices magic that goes beyond anything you will ever read about in a book.” Draco was closing the space between them and for a moment she thought he might sit next to her on the bed, but he stopped abruptly as he heard a knock.

She reached out to touch his hand, “What are the chances that I get out of here?”

Turning away from her, Draco went to the door. He paused for a moment gripping the handle so tight that his knuckles went white, but he didn’t say anything and left, the sound of the lock clicking behind him. 

Hermione stared at the back for the door and felt a sharp pang in her chest. She was very much on her own. 

\---

It only took a few moments after Draco left the room for Hermione to try everything she could to break out. She even threw a chair at the window, but it bounced back and almost knocking her out again. Without her wand she couldn’t uncover all the wards but she could feel them humming around the walls. Screaming until she was hoarse, she fell onto the floor. 

In the three days following her talk with Draco she had only seen the house elf who cleaned and left food. The little elf never said a word to her and avoided eye contact when she tried to address him. The anticipation of what was going to happen to her was driving her just as mad as the boredom was. With nothing to read or anyone to talk to, she had started practicing her wandless magic. She sent fizzing bursts of light through the room, firing them at the door when she got overly frustrated where they would just get absorbed by the magic of the warding. 

She was hovering the bath towels and making them contort into different shapes when there was a knock at the door and it opened. 

Narcissa Malfoy swept into the room in all her aristocratic grace, house elves following behind her carrying various garment bags and boxes. 

The older blonde witch looked Hermione up and down as if appraising her for auction, “The Dark Lord has requested you join us for dinner this evening. He has trusted me to ensure that you look presentable for such an occasion.” She picked up one of the garment bags from an elf and started to unzip it. 

“No.” Hermione cut her off. 

Narcissa pulled out some midnight blue robes with silver star embroidery and was mostly unphased by the rude interruption. “You seem to have mistaken this for an invitation, I was told you were smart.” her expression remained schooled in disinterested ambivalence but there was still a bite at the end. 

“I will not be paraded around some Death Eater dinner, just no.” Hermione insisted, trying to sound confident and hoping it came off that way. 

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at the turn this interaction was taking. “You will come to dinner, one way or the other - “ 

“Get out!” The forced sense of decorum had gotten under her skin and she screamed at the insufferably uptight witch. It was time to make a point and if she was going to be taken in front of people who thought she was less than an animal, then they could drag her for all she cared. 

Now clearly affronted, Narcissa turned on her feet so fast her robes billowed as she left the room, the elves trailing behind her with a slam of the door. 

Hermione flopped back onto the bed and smirked. 

\-----

As it started to get dark out, she thought about her friends again and whether they knew where she was. It wasn’t likely but if the Order’s intel had been correct about Malfoy Manor, maybe someone would come for her. A quiet but annoyingly honest voice in the back of her mind told her that she would likely have to figure out how to get out of this situation on her own. At least she had succeeded in getting her point across to Narcissa and was no longer expected at this farce of a dinner.

She sat on the bed playing with her wandless magic again, happy that she had been able to avoid Voldemort and the Malfoys, at least for now. 

Her smug mood dissipated when the door opened and Antonin Dolohov walked into the room holding what looked like the same blue and silver robes from earlier bunched up in his left hand. 

“Hello again.” he said in his Russian accent. His voice was just as she remembered from the Department of Mysteries. He was tall with broad shoulders and dark features that weren’t quite captured by his Azkaban wanted posters. 

She wasn’t able to speak, her lungs had stopped working as she looked into his dark eyes. The tightness in her chest constricted as she remembered how his eyes looked behind his Death Eater mask as he hurled curses at her. They were just as cold now, deep pools of darkness she felt like she was drowning in a way that sent shivers down her spine. 

He crossed over the length of the room and was stepping into her personal space “The Dark Lord is not happy you refused him and sent me to make sure you attend his dinner.” Dolohov continued. 

“Go to Hell” Hermione bit out. 

He let out a loud barking laugh and she jumped a little. “Soon, kroshka.”

“I guess...” He was now standing directly in front of her, she could smell tobacco smoke and faint hints of firewhiskey on his robes “I will have to be more persuasive?” He wiggled his eyebrows and seemed to be daring her almost playfully. 

Hermione didn’t want to play. “Get out.” She put up her hands to try to put some sort of buffer between them. 

“Ok then.” Dolohov said with a smile and brandished his wand. The hair on the back of Hermione’s neck stood up at the feel of his familiar magic. 

Several things happened at once. Hermione felt suddenly very exposed and constrained at the same time. With a squeak she realized he had wordlessly vanished her robes, leaving her only in her knickers and bra. Her arms were bound in chains that attached to a collar and leash. 

“Ahh there it is,” Dolohov said under his breath, his expression was slack and distracted  
as his eyes traveled to the large scar on her midsection. The scar he had given her. 

She was feeling hot under his gaze, “I’ll take those robes then.” Her arms hugged around herself in an attempt to feel covered, the room suddenly very drafty. 

He clucked his tongue at her, “You made your choice, maybe next time you will listen to the Lady of the house.” With that he yanked on her chain leash and pulled her out of the room stumbling. 

They made their way down the large hallway, Hermione resisting as he pulled her, the cold metal shackles digging into her wrists and neck. The pain was secondary to her humiliation, just a dull ache where the metal dug into her flesh. 

They continued towards the top of the staircase landing but stopped just as she started to hear the sound of voices. 

“Now.” Dolohov faced her, his eyes still dark bottomless pits. “I will take the chains off, if you agree to wear the nice robes and walk with me down to dinner. No fuss.”

At the thought of entering the dining room in her current state Hermione quickly nodded. 

With a brisk wand movement, he vanished the chains and handed her the robes. She put them on quickly, turning to face him again after she was dressed. 

Dolohov lifted his wand again and she winced. Giving her a funny look, he reached for her hand. He examined her raw wrist and gently turned it over to cast healing charms, doing the same with her other hand. The tip of his wand lightly touched her chin and moved her head to the side so that he could heal her neck. 

“While I find your fiery nature most entertaining, keep it tempered for the rest of the night.” Dolohov told her under his breath. “The Dark Lord will not indulge anymore resistance.” He lightly dragged his fingers over her healed neck and touched her chin again to force eye contact. “Do you understand?”

She nodded, hearing the genuine caution in his tone but wanting to shrink under his intense gaze. They walked together in silence until they drew closer to the dining room. Dolohov looked down at her one more time and opened the doors. 

The room was bright and dark at the same time. Black lacquered furniture and silver furnishings were reflecting the candle light to create a thick ambiance. Twenty or so people sat at a long rectangular table, she recognized the Malfoys, Bellatrix and the Lestrange Brothers. Hovering at the top of the very high ceiling were a series of metal cages, some empty, some with unascertainable figures hunched inside. Her attention was quickly directed from the ceiling to the head of the table where Voldemort had risen from his seat, his eyes shining red. 

“Ah, you decided to grace us with your presence after all.” Voldemorts voice was an ethereal sound that rang through the room, the pitch of it was unnerving. 

Dolohov guided her with his hand on the small of her back so that was seated on Voldemort’s left. Directly across from her was Rabastan Lestrange, he gave her a curious look as he shifted his weight in his seat. 

Voldemort sat back down, his voice ringing through the still quiet room, “We have much to discuss tonight.” 

In the moments of silence that followed, Hermione realized that he had been addressing her directly. She turned to look at him. His red eyes bore into her brown ones and drained what little confidence she had left.

He maintained eye contact with her, his irises a deep swirling red as if they were tiny spheres of fiendfyre which would have been almost mesmerizing if not entirely terrifying “It is customary to greet those you share a meal with. Or did the muggles not teach you table manners?” A chorus of laughter rang out around the table. Bellatrix’s shrill laugh, loudest of all. 

When the laughter subsided, silence fell around the table again. Voldemort picked up his silverware and started stabbing at his meal. She wanted to be anywhere else but this moment, she wanted to pick up her knife, gore his inhumane eyes out and run. Even if she had been able to move, she knew such muggle tactics would not get her very far. 

Following his lead, the Death Eaters also started on their food. The sound of clanking dinnerware filled the room but no-one spoke. The silence was uncomfortable and she knew that he was waiting for her to engage. Luckily, her frozen tongue thawed in order to stop the continuing silence. “Good evening.” Hermione conceded in an almost whisper.

“My Lord.” Voldemort twisted his hand to point his fork in her direction “Good evening, my Lord.” He corrected her, “But I'm tired of tutoring you on etiquette. Let us move on to more important topics, such as my plans for the evening.” He set down his fork and pushed his plates forward abruptly. As he did this, the rest of the table also stopped eating and the room quieted to an eerie silence again. 

He waved his wand upward and summoned one of the large metal cages, which lowered to hover over the center of the table. A man was writhing inside the bars, his grimey hair falling over beady eyes that were moving rapidly. It was apparent that a silencing charm had been cast as well, because his mouth was opening and closing with no sound coming out. 

Hermione felt a lurch of recognition and disgust at the same time. A small part of her was comforted to see Wormtail trapped like the rat he was in a cage. The other Death Eaters ignored his silent flailing, they were reverently fixated on their Lord as he spoke again. 

“Sometimes,” A sheepish grin spread across Voldemort’s face as he watched Wormtail silently plead on his knees in the cage. “a servant’s value is not what they can offer, it’s what they can sacrifice.”

“I know you are familiar with the concept of soul magic and the ways in which the human soul can be used in powering rituals to achieve certain desirable results. Dumbledore attempted to hide this information from all but his favorite students apparently.” 

At this, Hermione’s heart sank. Voldemort indirectly referencing his horcruxes so casually at a dinner with his followers was in direct contrast to what Dumbledore had told Harry. Through Dumbledore she was led to believe Voldemort was secretive about his use of soul magic and completely ignorant of their pursuit of his horcruxes. This revelation to the contrary ate away at what little hope Hermione had left for the Order to win the war. Any chance of Harry having the element of surprise while he destroyed Voldemort’s soul was gone. She looked down the table at Draco, not sure if she was trying to find comfort or support from him. Draco caught her staring and quickly looked away, focusing back on the head of the table. 

Voldemort had started transfiguring the dinnerware into cauldrons as he turned to Hermione, handing her a large knife. “Kill him now.” He gestured towards Wormtail who was now shaking so hard in his cage it looked like he was convulsing. 

“N- no!” Hermione sputtered, holding the knife limply in her hand. 

Chuckling softly, Voldemort looked around the room. “Ok then, I’ll allow you to save Wormtail's life, only if you choose who will take his place. Draco perhaps? He is the reason you’re here after all.” 

Looking over the table, her eyes met with Rabastan’s, who for a split second allowed his true fury to shine through the mask of indifference he had been showing. Bellatrix was giggling as she sipped her wine next to him. Further down the table, the Malfoys looked like they were made of stone, unmoving to the point where she wouldn’t be surprised if they had stopped breathing. 

She mulled over who deserved to die out of this group, a group of people whose sole purpose was to defeat the Order and subjugate her because of her blood status. A surprisingly quick impulse told her to ask Voldemort if she had to only pick one, but that wasn’t right so she shoved it back into the darker parts of her mind. 

“Have you made a decision, little mudblood?” the coldly shrill voice sounded again, this time he leaned closer to her as if they were sharing a secret. A part of her wondered if he had read her mind and knew she had momentarily wanted more bloodshed then he was asking for. 

“Do not call me that.” she snapped, surprising even herself with the sudden resurgence of her Gryffindor courage. Quickly she added, “Wormtail, but I can’t -- ” 

“I will help you.” Voldemort tilted his head to the side, surveying her. He then addressed the room at large, “I need blood from each of you, now.” 

Panic was building inside of Hermione as she saw each Death Eater slice their hands, spilling their veins into goblets and bowls, which they passed down to the head of the table. 

A cold grip wrapped around her hand that was still holding the knife and guided it to slice her other palm. She flinched at the pain but it was secondary to the buzzing she was feeling inside her head. Dark magic had begun to fill the room and it was obscuring her senses. A twirling specter of black and purple smoke wound around her, hugging in its warm embrace. 

She had lost track of what Voldemort was doing until it was too late. He was still gripping her hand that was holding the knife, lifting her up to a standing position over the table. With his wand in his other hand, he made a sharp movement which vanished the cage that had been holding Wormtail. Ropes appeared and began snaking around the rat faced man to bind him to the table. 

Voldemort’s cold grip tightened and dragged her hand angling downward across Wormtail’s throat. His life was over before she could catch her breath. A ringing in her ears told her that she had screamed but she couldn’t comprehend it as the blood started pooling across the table.

Hermione pushed away from the table, pulling her hand free to look down at it covered in glittering crimson. Magic pulsed from the warm liquid and she was drawn back towards Voldemort as if by a magnet, he gripped her blood covered hands in his own. 

“Ad iungere radix” he began chanting “cor meum simul aeternum”. The incantation started to repeat itself as it reverberated around the room, filling it with echoes of Voldemort’s voice. It sounded fuller than it had before, deeper in tone. 

The buzzing in her head was growing louder. Cupping her hands around her ears not noticing she was smearing blood on the sides of her face as she did so. 

Suddenly she was hoisted back, slammed against the outer wall of the dining room by an invisible force. She felt a ripping deep within her existence which shattered and mended before shattering again. The feeling continued over and over until she felt her awareness drop into an altered state. It was a freefall that assaulted her senses as she felt like she was endlessly hurtling through some unknown bottomless pit, the inertia of her decent unchangeable until she was slammed back into stillness and the hardness of the floor. 

“My Lord!” a loud voice broke through the echoing chants, settling the volume of the room with surrounding murmurs. 

Hands reached around Hermione lifting her back up. She was barely able to focus on anything as Dolohov sat her back into a chair and looked into her face. 

“Here, kroshka, come back.” His hands on her shoulders steading her body. “I know you are strong.” 

She blinked to try to regain her vision and looked around the room at the chaotic scene. Everything on the table had been shattered and broken, most of which was scattered around the surrounding floor. Many of the chairs were also now in pieces, and the Death Eaters looked in various states of disarray. Dolohov’s face had small cuts across it and he was bleeding. Her eyes fell on the table, where Wormtail’s body should have been but all she could see was scorched wood and blood pooling around what was left of the smashed table setting. 

“What did he do to me?” Hermione asked Dolohov in a hoarse rasp. The incantation Voldemort had used sounded like a variant of a binding spell she had read about once, but the magic had been much darker and she had never been able to study dark magic at Hogwarts.

Dolohov shook his head at her as he backed away revealing more of the scene behind him. Hunched in a chair bracing himself on the table, surrounded by concerned Death Eaters was a man Hermione knew was Lord Voldemort, and yet wasn’t. His skin was less translucent and more alabaster. Ringlets of dark brown hair fell across his chiseled face and nose. He reached up to touch his face and trace his angular jawline, rolling his head on his neck as he opened his eyes to look at her. 

She stared back into the red glowing eyes and saw the remnants of the man who ultimately became the creature she had known as Lord Voldemort. 

He blinked and looked over at her “Welcome back little witch, how was purgatory?” with a radiant smile that caught her off guard he said “I found it to be quite transformative.”

\---


	2. Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, time for another ritual. Please heed the tags, many of them apply for this chapter specifically. 
> 
> Thanks again to Olivia for all the help, you're the best.

Staring into the mirror of her bathroom at the Manor, Hermione leaned over the countertop, her heart racing as she examined her eyes in the reflection. A slight red glow was creeping into her typically brown irises. Tilting her head to the side, she could see the red streaks more clearly as they caught in the light as if they were tiny flames flickering intermittently. 

The uncertainty of what exactly had happened to her the night before was just as unsettling as the new change in her appearance. Voldemort had insinuated that she had been in purgatory during the ritual, but she was positive that she had not physically left the dining room. In both muggle and magical books referencing purgatory, she had only read theoretical descriptions, nothing indicating it was a tangible location. She was also reluctant to blindly trust Voldemort’s explanation. Logically, she wanted to consider other reasons for the sensations she had felt during the ritual and now the subtle glow of her eyes, which meant she needed more information on dark magic. 

Returning to sit on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling and out of habit started creating small sparks of magic with her hands. They danced above her, twirling around with the usual bright blue and green hues. Her mind drifted to images of Wormtail's face from the night before, silently contorted in agony as he took his last breaths. She felt an uncomfortable stabbing sense of guilt because even though Wormtail was one of the worst wizards she had come across since joining the magical world, she was not sure he deserved to die like that. When Voldemort made it clear someone was going to die regardless of her scruples, for a fleeting moment she had imagined asking him to annihilate as many Death Eaters as possible. Knowing the morbid conclusion of her choice, she cringed.

As her thoughts darkened, the magic started swirling faster and she felt a surge go through her causing the sparks to be swallowed by a streaming beam of red magic that bellowed forth like cold flames from her hands. 

The bright red force engulfed the ceiling and flowed back down to cover the bed, humming around her like a cozy blanket. She felt the tension in her body release and her anxieties from earlier dissipate into the darkness of the magic as if they were being swallowed whole. Lost in appreciating the relief of this new magical aura as it pulsed through her, she failed to notice that it was engulfing the entire room. A sizzling background noise grew louder which told her that the wards were being tested by her new power. 

She decided to try something. Pushing more magic forward, she willed it to extend from the confines of the warded room. After a few moments there was a crack, indicating the wards had broken under the pressure of her magic. Swiftly, she got to her feet and made her way to the door, reaching for the doorknob just as the door pushed open from the other side, forcing her to back away.

“What in Merlin’s hell…” Draco stepped through; confusion etched across his face. “I felt the wards breaking.” He looked around the room, placing his hand on the wall next to the door trying to feel where the familial magic should have been holding strong. 

Trying to distract him from the wards, she attempted to draw his attention “Oh, I thought maybe you were coming to check on me after what happened last night. Clearly that was presumptuous of me.” Her tone was biting.

Draco continued looking around the room, “Oh,” he said, not pausing as his hands moved along the walls “How are you?” 

She crossed her arms across her chest defensively, “Well, I was used in some sort of blood ritual, Voldemort is looking human again and...” she touched her finger to her chin in sarcastic contemplation, “oh yeah, I’m still trapped in your fucking house Malfoy.”

He stopped what he was doing to turn and face her. Frowning, he took several steps in her direction to reach his hand towards her in what she considered a failed attempt at comfort, she shifted backwards out of his reach. 

“There’s nothing I can do; you realize that he will kill my entire family if I help you?” His defeated tone did not calm the building frustration inside of her. Hermione’s emotions were as volatile as her magic. 

Luckily, in her anger she gained a sudden sense of clarity. She stepped forward, closer to the boy who she had made so many mistakes with, knowing he would think she was more than willing to make another.

She tried her best to make her smile appear genuine, “I know Draco,” she let out a small sigh and dropped her arms to her sides, relaxing her posture. “I know you would help me if you could.” 

He swallowed and reached out to her again. She let him touch her face, grazing her cheek with the tips of his fingers as he looked down at her. “I always warned you that I wasn’t right for you.”

Hermione looked down at his lips and then back up into his sad eyes, leaning into the familiarity by playing on those memories of softer moments. 

Draco dropped his head forward and pressed a tentative kiss on her lips. She kissed him back, opening her mouth and deepening it. He sighed into her and followed her lead, snogging her as he walked her backward. They tumbled over together; a heap of limbs intertwined onto the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he ground into her with their hands feeling each other’s bodies to pullback clothing. He unbuttoned the front of her robes as he kissed down her neck. Hermione let out a groan as he nipped at her pulse point. She ran her hands down his chest, her hands trailing down his torso over his black robes, searching him. Over his right hip she found what she had been looking for. 

She ground back against the hardness that she felt between his legs with her hips, and he let out a short gasp, kissing her furiously in response. Seizing the moment, Hermione gripped her hand around his wand, pulling it from the holster on his hip as she angled her wrist to point at him.

“ _Stupify_!” she shouted, and his body slackened as he fell against her onto the bed unconscious. Pushing the stunned Draco to the side, she got up, gripped his wand in her hand, and ran quickly out of the room.

Her heart beating fast, she made her way down the hallway back towards the main staircase, stopping for a moment to listen for voices. Not hearing anyone, she tentatively made her way down the stairs. 

Moving quietly through the main hall, she was grateful the doors to the drawing room were closed. Making a quick decision she went towards the back doors that opened into the grounds which were closer than what she guessed was the front entryway of the Manor. 

She worked the door handle gently but had to cast an Alohomora with Draco’s wand for it to open. Once she was out, the fresh air hit her face and she broke off into a sprint towards the forest. If she could just get outside the grounds where she could apparate, she would be free, and this nightmare finally over. The thought of finding Harry and Ron caused her stomach to backflip hopefully. 

“STOP!” a voice rang out, but she didn’t stop to look back and kept running forward. She had made it past the gardens and was only a few yards away from the tree line when she felt a spell sail past her left side. 

Hermione twisted back firing off some stunning spells but kept her momentum forward. Making her way into the forest, she darted between the trees and was just about to take a step forward and twist into apparition when she felt something sharp stab from inside her. 

Falling forward onto her hands and knees, she started retching. A sharp pressure was painfully puncturing through her head and abdomen as she vomited blood all over the ground and across her hands. Unable to stop, there was so much blood coming up that she could barely breathe. Trying to crawl forward while still upheaving, she heard someone walking up behind her, the forest floor crunching under their heavy steps. 

A gruff voice sounded from behind her “You idiot.” A hand picked up Draco’s wand from where she had dropped it to the right of her face, and she was being pulled by her feet backwards and dragged on her stomach back toward the manor. It was impossible to scream in protest as she was now upheaving a dark black liquid that was spewing forward. Hermione looked up to see trees becoming more distant and she felt defeated. 

However, the closer she was dragged toward the Manor, the better she felt with the pain in her head and stomach now just a dull ache. After a couple moments, she was able to catch her breath to look back and see that she was being dragged by the Rabastan Lestrange. 

“Please let me go.” she begged. 

Rabastan shook his head as he continued to drag her, “You’re going to get Draco killed if you keep this shit up.”

“I don’t care,” She wheezed, “he’s the reason I’m probably going to die here.”

He stopped, dropping her feet, and looked down at her, “Can you walk now? Or do I have to drag you all the way back?” 

Shifting her weight in an attempt to stand, she stumbled back so that she was sitting on the ground leaning up on her elbows. Still trying to catch her breath from being sick, she wiped the sleeve of her robe across her mouth to clear away the blood and grime from her face. 

She looked up at him and asked, “What spell did you hit me with back there? It almost killed me.” 

“None of my spells landed, and I was only casting stunners. The Dark Lord has made it very clear that you are not to be harmed.” Rabastan’s annoyed tone seeped into every word as he looked down at her. “No matter what stupid stunts you pull.” 

He pushed his long sandy brown hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ears. She noticed Rabastan’s face was twisted in the evident and inexplicable hatred he had for her before he turned away. He was slim but muscular and appeared to be in his mid-thirties, which made her wonder how young he had been when he went to Azkaban. 

Hermione tried to stand again; her legs wobbly but working. They walked in slow silence together back toward the Manor as she still was struggling to breathe normally while Rabastan kept his wand pointed at her. 

Once back in the main hall of the Manor she looked down at herself to see her robes and hands covered in blood and the black tar substance. 

“Could you clean these or get me some new ones?” she gestured to her soiled robes. 

He didn’t even look at her as he said, “Do I look like a house elf to you?” 

“Now Rabastan,” A smooth voice dripping in cold humor sounded from the drawing room, “let’s not make our guest feel so unwelcome.” 

Rabastan visibly stiffened but Hermione felt her body relax as she looked towards the voice to see a tall man with dark hair shut the large wooden doors of the drawing room. He turned around and it took Hermione several moments to remember that the person walking towards them with a disarming smile and prominent cheekbones was in fact the dark wizard who had been terrorizing Britain for decades. She blinked several times, trying to regain focus as Voldemort strode confidently into the main hall. 

“Guest? I’m confined to a room and I almost just died trying to leave.” Drained from her attempted escape, she lacked cordiality. 

“Don’t be ornery, it’s boring.” Voldemort said sharply, turning towards Rabastan and gesturing at Hermione’s blood-stained appearance, “What happened?” 

Rabastan spoke looking into the ground “She tried to escape, but before she made it outside the Manor grounds, she was overcome with some sort of sickness and started vomiting blood. I swear I didn’t harm her, my Lord.” 

“Get Draco and meet us in the study.” Voldemort ordered. 

Rabastan dipped his head even lower, maintaining eye contact with the floor, “Yes, my Lord.” Turning to leave up the stairs. 

“Follow me.” Voldemort looked down at the small witch in her dirty robes with a look of mild curiosity. He started up the stairs and she trailed after him, her feet heavy with each step. They made their way to one of the rooms off the main landing. 

The study was a small library with bookcases lining the walls. On the right side, next to the large paned windows was an ornate stone desk with a leather top which had a garishly carved letter M on the front. Voldemort lifted his hand and a fire started in the fireplace opposite them. He turned to her, moving his wand over her robes so that the blood and grime vanished before he sat in the velvet armchair with perfect posture, staring into the crackling fire. 

Her energy depleted, Hermione’s legs carried her to the Chesterfield sofa opposite him to sit down, pulling her legs into her chest and settling into the corner opposite the hearth. She tried not to overthink how strange it was to be curled up on a sofa, hoping for an honest conversation with Voldemort but she wanted answers. 

He broke the silence, “Do not try to leave again. I will see to it that you can have more access to other parts of the Manor, but I assure you that it is in your best interests to stay here.” He kept his gaze on the flames dancing in the hearth. “Your magic will stop you if you make another attempt, and you may not survive it.”

“What is wrong with my magic that it would kill me? What did you do to me?”

He turned away from the fire to look at her. This close to him, she could see that his eyes were actually dark brown, with a red glow that streaked in towards the pupil in a way that made them appear bright red from a distance. She wondered if he had noticed the change in her eyes as well. “Nothing is wrong with your magic.”

“Ok.” She paused to change her approach and added. “You said we went to purgatory, but that isn’t possible?” 

Relaxing his head against the back of the chair, he looked back into the fire, “The spell we performed latched onto Wormatail’s soul as it was attempting to go through the veil, causing it to stop in the in-between.” He rolled his wrist, playing with his wand between his fingers as he clarified, “A place referred to as limbo or purgatory.”

This seemed so improbable to her that she frowned, “It’s impossible to know if such a place exists. Even the alchemical texts say purgatory is an unsubstantiated theory that has never been supported by any practical applications of magic.” The books she took from Dumbledore’s office after he died had covered this very topic in depth. She was fairly confident there was no definitive proof of purgatory existing according to the world's most accomplished wizarding scholars and alchemists.

Voldemort turned his attention away from the fire and looked at her with mild annoyance as he rubbed his temples with his long slender fingers, “There is not a wizard in existence who knows more about what lies beyond the veil than I do, death is so much more complex.” he paused before adding, “Trust that I am intimately familiar with what happens to a soul when it crosses between realms.”

The term Death Eater was making more sense to Hermione than ever before. She supposed Dumbledore’s books had lacked a firsthand account of anyone practicing the magic that they covered. She shifted to tuck her hand under her chin on the arm of the couch, leaning into the fire, struggling to rationalize how drawn to this subject she was. To be fair, it was hard to stifle her curiosity when she could sense he knew far more than he was telling her. Everything she had ever read about the veil and horcruxes felt incomplete now. 

“So, what happened to Wormtail’s soul in purgatory when he died?” 

“When we killed Wormtail,” Voldemort said pointedly, “The door to purgatory was opened and your intact soul served as an anchor, grounded us physically in this realm as we drew power through his sacrifice. Our magic was bound together to achieve this,” He cocked his head to the side “surely you’ve felt it?” 

A bond. Maybe that was why his presence felt calming when logically, she knew she should be repulsed. 

“I feel it.” Hermione muttered under her breath.

She shifted against the couch and felt her cheeks blush from the warmth of the fire. 

He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I suspect you broke the ancient Malfoy familial wards confining you without a wand. The sheer power you gained from this initial blood rite… the power we gained.” He lifted his right arm, leaving his wand on the arm of the chair and twisted his hand to open his palm one finger at a time to release a swirl of magic up into the air between them. Red flames started dancing in the air, making their way across the room where they hung softly, wrapping around her on the couch. She felt it pulse through her, vibrating pleasantly down her spine. “Just imagine how it will feel when we complete another ritual.” His eyes followed the path of the flames with an amused expression that made her melt further into the couch. 

Consumed by this new feeling, she lifted her arms, turning them so that her palms faced up to the ceiling. She closed her eyes and let her own raw power pour out to match his. The release of it was euphoric as she felt their combined magic filling the room. 

A loud knock brought her out of whatever trance she was in. She looked through the red haze at the door, unsure of how long they had been sitting like that. 

Voldemort clutched his wand and stood abruptly “Enter.” he siphoned off the flames from the air leaving her to feel cold and uncomfortable.

Rabastan stepped into the room, followed closely by Draco who cast a quick glance at her before kneeling on the ground at his master’s feet. 

“I am at your service, My Lord.” Draco whimpered into the expensive looking rug. Rabastan stood to the side, looking down at him with a blank expression. 

Voldemort’s stature was stiff, “You and your pathetic excuse of a father told me that the wards would hold on that room indefinitely.” His mouth turned up into a deadly sneer. “Or did you mistake my directive for a moment to pontificate in a self-aggrandizing manner... at my expense?” 

Draco was shaking, still speaking into the rug “No, my Lord. They should have held.”

“And how did you happen to lose your wand?” Voldemort stepped forward, his leather shoes now touching the tip of Draco’s forehead with his wand pointed ominously downward. “I found Rabastan holding it as he cleaned up your mess, per usual.” 

A red stream of light erupted from his wand tip, hitting Draco who screamed so loud that Hermione let out a small scream of her own. 

“Was there anything,” he kicked Draco over “ _unclear_ ,” Voldemort spat out as he stomped the heel of his right foot into Draco’s face causing his nose to gush blood, “when I told you she was not to escape?” 

Draco was choking on his blood as he attempted to answer but he was unable to speak properly before Voldemort fired off another Crucio causing him to convulse violently. 

Hermione wasn’t sure when she got up from the couch, but she was on her feet, without her wand she still felt powerless and she wasn’t even sure if her magic would hurt Draco more if she tried to use it wandlessly again. She looked frantically at Rabastan whose blank face infuriated her further.

With another flash of red light, Draco was screeching shrilly. His limbs twitched but he was now crumpled into the fetal position and sobbing softly. She rushed forward collapsing at his side, tears streaming down her face. 

“If she escapes again,” Voldemort said evenly. “I will not be as patient as I was today” 

Looking up into his deceptively calm face, she felt anger boil deep within her chest as she spread her hands across Draco’s chest in an attempt to comfort him from the pain. 

Voldemort ran a hand through his slightly disheveled hair which had fallen into his eyes. “Get him out of my sight.” 

Bending down, Rabastan looped his arms under Draco’s to pull him up, nesting his shoulder under his limp arm to help upright. 

She watched from her knees as they hobbled out of the study. Sitting on the blood-stained rug she pushed herself back so that she was against the desk, trying to catch her breath as she cried. 

Voldemort leaned back to sit casually on the arm of the chair and looked at her with a quizzical expression, as if he were trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. She was grateful that he stayed silent because she did not have the energy to continue the polite facade from earlier. 

After a few moments she got up, bracing herself against the desk. Voldemort lifted his wand, causing her to flinch visibly as he did so. His lip twitched upwards slightly as he said “ _Accio_ bag”. 

The drawer of the desk opened and Hermione’s small, beaded bag came whirring through the air, which he caught in his other hand. 

“Dumbledore’s distaste for the dark arts was not only short sighted, it was also almost comical.” He shook the bag causing the expanded contents within to make loud clunking noises as he smirked. “I was almost insulted that this,” he lifted her bag up, now holding it between his fingers like it was a dirty napkin, “was part of some master plan to defeat me.” 

He tossed the bag at her, which she caught with both hands. 

“As I mentioned, you will have free roam of Manor and its grounds. There is a library, I encourage you to use it,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest as he lectured her “it seems as though Hogwarts has really been offering a subpar education these days.” 

This freedom was strange to her, although she realized that her magic was keeping her confined to the Manor property for some reason and she would be unable to leave even if she tried. Unsure of what to say she stood there just looking at the bag in her hands. 

Voldemort went to one of the bookshelves and started pulling books which he floated with his wand over to the desk behind her, stacking them into a pile.

“The next ritual will be in seven days.” he said as he walked behind the desk, taking a seat. “Those - “ he pointed to the books, “should give you a better foundation than what I found in your bag.” 

He started pulling out papers with alchemical runes on them from the drawers of the desk and did not look up at her. Realizing that she was dismissed, she grabbed the books and put them into her bag and left the study. 

Distracted, she walked down the halls of the Manor, trying to remember where her room was, she actually felt relieved once she found it. The irony was that only a few hours ago she would have given anything to leave it. 

\---

Hermione slept well into midday after her attempted escape. Once she was up, she got in the shower, where she ran the water as hot as it could go. Sitting on the marble floor of the walk-in shower she cried for a while trying to process what had happened. 

Over the next few days no-one came to her room other than the house-elf but she didn’t mind it. She did not feel like facing anyone, and the only person she knew well she wanted to avoid most of all. She had started reading the books Voldemort had given her, and much as she hated to admit it, they were far better than the ones she had borrowed from Dumbledore. So far, her favorite had been _The Historical Importance of Runic War Warding in the British Isles_ which outlined some interesting hypotheticals concerning the implications of sovereignty on magical wards. 

The other books were considerably darker but outlined more introductory principles into practicing the dark arts. She had not been this interested in a subject this much since the summer before her third year when she had purchased the vast number of books she needed to prepare for her excessive timetable. Once she understood the underlying principles, she felt it was easy to master the subjects at Hogwarts; So, she was thrilled by the challenge the dark magic books gave her to occupy her time. 

After she ran out of reading material, she decided to brave the Manor in search of the library. The first two days she went there, she was happy to find that it was empty. Unsure what organizational system they used, she started pursuing the shelves in search of something that could inform her of the situation she currently found herself in -- facing a series of rituals that lead up to Samhain.

There were only a couple of times where she ran into Death Eaters in the halls, but she kept her head down trying not to draw attention so that she could just get the Library. They seemed perfectly happy to ignore her as well. 

One afternoon she pulled several new books off the shelf and made her way to one of the large wooden tables under the windows of the library. There was something comfortable about being back in a library even if she jumped a little at every creak or sound she heard. Unfortunately, her solitude was disturbed when Draco’s familiar voice sounded through the stacks. 

“Hello Granger.” He said so casually you would think they were in the Great Hall at Hogwarts or running into each other on the streets of Hogsmeade. 

She shut her book, holding her place with her finger. “Malfoy, what are you doing here?” 

“I happen to live here,” He scoffed with what she knew was false bravado. “this is Malfoy Manor.” He swept his hand out to the side as if hosting a tour. 

Nodding, she looked up at him. Searching his face to see how he was doing after the ordeal in the study. He looked as if he had not slept since the last time she saw him. His skin was pale and waxy while the bags under his eyes looked like dark bruises. 

“It seems to be yours in name only though, these days it seems your family answers to a new Lord of the Manor,” she raised an eyebrow, “and his name isn’t Malfoy.” 

Draco’s posture became defensive, anger flashing across his grey eyes “Ok fine, enough with the pleasantries then.” He leaned forward taking the book out of her hands to look at its cover. “I just came to let you know that the next ritual involves sex magic. The Dark Lord asked for volunteers to participate and while most of his following are stout blood purists and didn’t seem interested, Dolohov was more than willing to offer himself up.”

He grinned at her stunned silence before adding, “Not sure how much experience you got with this type of thing in Gryffindor tower, so I’ll leave you to your books.” He pulled the leather tome out of her lap with his fingers, “I’m unsure if this one has any pointers on pleasing Russian curse breakers in a group setting though,” he said before placing it back down on her desk and turning to leave. 

Hermione’s heart was beating so fast it reverberated through her skull. She reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. Opening her mouth to say something, only a small squeaking noise came out. 

His lips turned up into a sneer as he pulled his arm out of her grip as if her touch had burned him, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist Granger,” the sneer softened into a timid smile “I also volunteered, you should have seen the look on my Father’s face...” He grinned absentmindedly before adding “and the Dark Lord says it’s your choice, So -- ” 

Hermione felt her pulse start to even out slightly, she slid back into her chair.

“I’d rather be with you Draco.” She said softly “You know I always choose you.” This was mostly true; she had always found her way back to Draco. He had this ability to make her feel everything and nothing at the same time when they were together, and he was inside her.

Ron never was able to do that. 

He looked relieved and stood a bit more upright as he said “My mother with help you prepare. Just do not be rude to her again, she is not to be trifled with, trust me.” 

Hermione was unsure how to navigate that dynamic, she wondered if pureblood girls were expected to have the mother of their lover prepare them for rituals often and it almost made her laugh. 

Draco turned around, stopping for a moment to Accio a book which he levitated into her lap. The book was _Intercourse in a Ritual Setting: Sex Magic and its Powerful Uses in the Dark Arts_.

“That has some basics, my parents gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday.” 

She was still unsure how to process this but was thankful to at least have a book on the subject. Suddenly, she thought back to the first ritual and felt sick again.

“Draco..”

He turned around, “Yes?”

“I’m not going to have to kill you…or anyone else, am I?” 

“Don’t worry, Granger. The next ritual is mostly about carnal pleasure, you may even enjoy yourself this time.”

\----

Hoping that no-one would mind, she took several of the books up to her room with her. She didn’t feel like braving the walk to the library after her conversation with Draco. The next day she struggled to focus on the words she was reading, even she had to admit no amount of research was going to really prepare her for this ritual. 

That evening she heard a knock, Narcissa had come to help prepare. She had learned her lesson from before and was not rude. However, she had to put in an extra effort to bite her tongue as she was handed her outfit for the evening. 

Hermione wondered if this could even be considered clothes at all, it was more like ornate body jewelry that hung around the parts of her that clothes were meant to cover. A delicate gold chain dipped below her breasts and clasped onto a matching gold necklace with a large moonstone at its center. The only saving grace for her was the cape which wrapped around her and was made of a mostly opaque linen fabric. 

“Once the magic of the circle is set, you will no longer be nervous.” Narcissa said, avoiding eye contact. 

Nodding in response, she wasn’t sure what to say. The older witch didn’t offer any other words of wisdom for which Hermione was grateful. 

Narcissa helped clasp the jewelry so that it was secured around her neck and draped the cape over her. 

“Shoes?” Hermione asked. 

“No.” 

And with that Narcissa led her out to the grounds of the Manor, stopping just outside the door motioning for Hermione to continue without her. 

What once had likely been a traditionally well-kept garden had been cleared away. Dirt was spread about the area with a glittering white substance marking runic designs. Large fires were set on the edge points of the drawn circle which spread a magical warmth through the cool night air. The dirt was soft under her bare feet as she made her way forward. 

Voldemort was waiting for her in the center with a row of hooded death eaters standing just behind him. His nonchalant smile seemed out of place to her in this setting, but it sent shockwaves down her spine and ignited a heat that throbbed deep within her. The closer she was to him, the stronger the throbbing became until she was standing in front of him, feeling his magic seeping into hers and grounding her there. 

The disconcerting comfort she felt around Voldemort was still sending off every alarm bell in her brain, but it was being overridden by the feeling of having him near again. The roaring fires crackled, and she saw the flames dancing chaotically in his eyes. 

“You will be opening another door tonight.” Voldemort reached up to lightly touch the tip of her chin with his thumb and pointer finger. “The process should be a bit more pleasurable than it was last time.”

Voldemort reached into his robes and withdrew a ruby encrusted dagger. He handed it to her, and then lifted his hand and made a beckoning motion. One of the hooded figures stepped forward to join them in the circle.

“Draco informed me you chose him for the ritual this time, I hope you made the right decision,” He said, still looking at her with an amused expression “I would hate to be disappointed if the magic you create is not as potent as it could have been.” 

The cloaked figure lifted shaking hands to pull back his hood. Draco’s familiar grey eyes looked at her with a softness that she had all but forgotten existed since she had arrived at the Manor. 

“The blade is charmed to reciprocate any injury you inflict. So, if you kill him, you will also die.” Voldemort stepped back and put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Use it to inscribe the runic symbol for release.” He motioned over his chest, indicating the placement. “At the correct moment.”

She nodded dumbly, and Draco stepped forward giving her a small smile that lacked confidence. 

Voldemort reached forward and undid the clasp of her cape so that it fell to the ground at her feet. Lightly, he traced his thumb across her bottom lip and stared deep into her eyes before he backed away. She felt an emptiness as he left toward the edge of the circle. 

Draco cupped her face in his hands and started to kiss her, slow long drawn-out kisses that were so familiar in ways that it stirred something inside her. She started to feel hot with an empty ache spreading out from her core. Slightly dizzy from the magical atmosphere, she was nervous as she kissed him back. From over Draco’s shoulder she saw Voldemort and the other hooded figures join the rest of the onlookers at the edge of the enchanted circle. 

Her attention was brought back to her body when one of Draco’s hands that had been holding her neck, trailed down to cup her already exposed breast. He gently slid his hand so that his fingertips played with her nipple causing her to intensify the kiss. Feeling the need to touch more of him she reached up and clasped her arms around his neck, still holding the dagger in one hand. 

Draco kissed her mouth and trailing down her neck where he pulled the skin in between his teeth. She whimpered in response, opening her eyes as he pulled away from the kiss. The magic of the rune circle was thickening and swirling around them, creating a fog that made it seem like they were in the eye of a hurricane, the slow-moving stillness in a storm of magic. She could no longer see the hooded figures standing at the edge of the circle, but she was quickly distracted by Draco’s mouth before she could think too long on whether they could still see her. 

He continued to bite and kiss down her neck as his mouth moved down her body until he was kneeling in front of her and kissing her right above her heat. 

“Draco --” 

He looked up at her and she gasped at what she saw. His eyes were clouded over, completely white but shining like two prismatic crystals casting beams of multi-colored light up towards her. 

Tilting his head to the side he continued to stare at her, also mesmerized by what he saw. Hermione’s eyes were completely black. They drew him in, and he was lost to her in the moment. 

“Please Draco, I - ” 

With a telltale smirk he returned to her body and began licking her folds, increasing the pressure with his tongue as he did so. The building heat within her was overwhelming and unlike anything she had felt before as it was combining with their magics. She closed her eyes, letting her head loll back as she sighed and ran her hands through his hair. 

He flicked and swirled his tongue sending pleasure through her body but causing her knees to become weak from standing. She bent down to take his cheek in her dagger-free hand kneeling down to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips as she pulled him on top of her, lowering them to the ground. Her back pressed into the cold and soft dirt, was in stark contrast with the warm and hard muscles of his body pressing into her as they continued to kiss in a dazed stupor. 

She felt him rub his fingers against her clitoris as he began fingering her softly. He built the pace, causing her to arch her back. She mewed in response as he slipped two fingers inside her and started to work them against her while still rubbing her clit with his thumb. 

“I’m close.” she was able to let out. 

“You know what you have to do then?” Draco’s voice was husky with desire. 

“Yes.” she knew but that didn’t make it any easier to focus. 

Hermione pushed him back with one hand on his chest as his fingers dove deep inside her, the pressure pulsing through her, sharp and gratifying. With her other hand she angled the dagger so that the was laying across him with the tip at his left collarbone. 

The rhythm of his fingers was building the tension within her and as she felt it was about to crash, she put pressure against the blade and pulled it across his chest from one side to the other. She felt her skin splitting apart as well, mirroring the cut she gave him.

Draco let out a groan as she gasped for air, her breath hitching in her throat as the pain and pleasure collapsed together into a tidal wave of sensation as she came. She let out another clutched gasp as her vision blurred and she fell into oblivion. 

The aftershocks that followed were met with a hardness pressing at her opening. As her vision started to clear she met Draco’s magic filled eyes, he lazy smile that was uncharacteristically relaxed. 

She reached up to catch his lips with hers and he thrust into her with a hard jerk of his hips. His mouth fell open and with a sharp breathy sigh, he paused for a moment.

“Fuck”, he said with his forehead pressed against hers. 

Before she could catch her breath in the stillness of the moment, he pushed forward, hard. He began thrusting into her over and over again. Each time he pulled his hips back the anticipation of him hitting her in her center was throwing her into the tides of her lust again. Their bodies slid against each other, covering her breasts with blood. 

Draco lifted his body up and hooked her right leg over his arm and drove into her at the new angle so that his shaft hit her at the spot that made her groan. He brought his other hand back to her center and started working her clit again with his hand. The feeling of him inside her and the sensations of his fingers were building towards another orgasm, more intense than the last. 

Before she was completely lost in experiencing her release, Hermione gripped the dagger tight again and reached up to grab hold of Draco’s throat with her palm. He stilled mid-thrust and she brought the dagger to the hollow of his throat. She cut him in a straight line down his chest, vertically slicing downward, screaming as she felt it cutting between her own breasts. 

With a loud huff, he took the dagger out of her hand, threw it aside and began pumping into her again, bringing them back towards their bliss. He slid his hand from her waist, between the valley of her breasts, up her neck to cup her chin, forcing them to look into each other’s bottomless eyes. She came again, lifting into his grasp and he followed her crashing down. 

She felt their magic burst, spreading through the circle and roaring up with the fires. 

The sounds of him panting on top of her combined with the roaring of the magical fires. Before either of them could move, she felt a hand grab her by the back of her head pulling her upright suddenly while Draco was still inside her. 

Voldemort’s eyes were completely blown out black to match hers and he looked dazed as he slid his long fingers up between her breasts where the cuts were. Dragging his blood-soaked fingers across her slightly parted lips, he leaned down and kissed her. 

She was on fire, and it felt exquisite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up... Gluttony.


End file.
